Manhandled
by Lif61
Summary: Sam gets caught by two vampires, and they decide to have some fun with him.


**A/N: Written for one-word whump prompts on tumblr: manhandling.**

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Sam let out a groan as he was slammed into the wall, his head turned to the side. Two men had ahold of him, hands on his arms and wrists. Well, they weren't men. Not exactly. They were vampires.

Sam hated vampires.

One of them brushed his mouth against Sam's neck, making him writhe and cry out.

The vampires laughed at him.

They were about his size, too big for him to fight off on his own now that they'd disarmed him. He wondered if they were planning on killing him.

"You're a pretty one, aren't you?" one of them asked teasingly, voice low.

Sam growled, tried kicking his foot back at them, but his hair was grabbed, his face shoved against the wall even more. Some wood splintered and stuck into his cheek, drawing blood, making him wince.

"Let me go," he snarled at them, still struggling against them.

One of them let go of him, but it was only so the other one could turn him around and throw him down onto the floor. Before Sam could collect himself, there was an arm around his neck as he was hauled up. He grasped at that arm, gasping for breath, eyes widening in fear.

"Should we let him go?" the one holding him asked the other, who was stalking over to him.

Sam flinched when he moved some of his hair out of his face with a finger.

"Not just yet. He's entertaining. I like to play with my food."

He leaned down, inhaling Sam's scent, making him cry out with what voice he had left to him, and he was released. Before Sam could fall to the ground the other vampire grabbed him, hand on his jaw, bruising, and he was shoved back against the wall, forced to sit down.

Sam glared defiance at them, even as fear quickened his pulse.

"My brother's coming, you know," he told them. "He'll save me."

"Sure, believe that," one of them told him, leaning in close, horrid breath against his ear. "We'll finish with you before he even gets here."

A bunch of horrifying thoughts traveled through Sam's brain at his words.

They could do so many things to him, and they already had been doing awful things, their hands bruising.

He was grabbed under the arms, forced to stand up, and one of them had a hand around his throat, not choking, not yet.

They stared at him with dark, hungry eyes. Sam was used to that gaze, and sometimes he thought he might break under it, but not here, not now. He couldn't.

He was punched in the stomach, the air driven out of him, and he nearly collapsed. That made him fall against the hand at his throat, which drove him back. He was punched again, pressure, pain. Then one more time, and he was allowed to collapse to the floor. The fall hurt just as much as their hands on him had, and they were laughing as he tried to crawl away from them.

Sam was grabbed, and he tried to roll onto his back so he could kick, punch. He even tried reaching down with his mouth to bite, but it was useless. Those hands were on him, hurting him. He was being held down, and then they rolled him over, leaving Sam to stare up at them with his dizzying vision. They towered over him, and they each stepped on his wrists to keep him pinned to the floor.

It'd been awhile since Sam had been manhandled to this degree. He couldn't even see the point in it. What fun were they getting out of this? Why couldn't they just get right to it and kill him?

That way this would all be over.

Sam tried wrenching himself out from underneath them, but they stepped harder, making him tilt his head back and cry out. They crouched down by him, balancing with their feet on his wrists, and one ran a hand through his hair while the other played with the button on his shirt.

"You're feisty," the one with the gruffer voice told him.

"Get off me!" he cried, breaths coming in heaving gasps and pants.

"Alright, alright," one of them relented.

Then they both stepped off of him.

Sam got up, trying to make a run for it, and he made it out of the abandoned house they were in before they caught him. He was slammed down against the ground, and hauled to his feet once more, mouths against his neck, breath hot against his skin, fangs sharp, threatening to draw blood.

The vampires laughed, and it was the last sounds they ever made as their heads were chopped off.

Sam managed to catch himself before he fell to the ground, and their bodies fell, heads rolling, blood spraying into the air. He shuddered in the aftermath of his panic.

"You okay?" Dean asked him.

His brother had come from the surrounding woods, too quiet for even Sam to hear, though he'd known he'd be coming. Still, he was beyond relieved to see him.

Sam felt at his throat, searching for blood though he hadn't felt their teeth get him. He nodded, swallowing roughly.

"They rough you up?"

"Y-yeah."

Dean put a hand to his back, walking Sam farther away from the house into the dark night, which felt open and free compared to the house with the hands that had been on him.

"Come on. We'll get you some ice."


End file.
